That That Don't Kill Me Can Only Make Me Stronger
by Shinigami XOXO
Summary: Mother-poisoned. Father-deceased. Alone. For the sake of survival, it seems like the only possible solution...


**A/N:** Umm….there's a couple of things I want to say. This story is inspired by the movies "The Marine", "The Bourne Ultimatum", basically just the whole Bourne series, and my friend Alex, who joins the US Marines in two years…I was sulking one afternoon about Alex going to the Marines when suddenly, this whole idea popped into my mind. I first dismissed the idea, thinking I wouldn't be able to develop a good fanfic for this, and worrying that even if I did put it up, I wouldn't know what categories to put it in. Then again, I do most things based on randomness and instinct so, yeah. But I've made up my mind to write this instead of moping around like an idiot.

** Disclaimer:** I do not own Ouran or its characters. It all belongs to Bisco Hatori sama.

**Rating:** T

**Dedicated to:** Alex de Mattis, who is the friend of mine who is joining the Marines in two years

**Warning: **May contain very emotional words/ events

**Pairing:** HaruhiX?

* * *

That That Don't Kill Me Can Only Make Me Stronger

_Prologue_

She put on her black leather jacket over her bleached shirt. She looked fearsomely dangerous. Her hair was dyed black and cut short, simple, and sleek. Her eyes, with her black contacts, looked unafraid, ready to withstand the sights that she had yet to see. She tightened the straps on her boots, straightened out her leather pants, and stuck her .32 caliber into its place inside her jacket, where her .44 special and explosives laid, easily acessable and ready to be used.

She took one last look at the city she was born in, the city where her mother died as one of the 50 Japanese citizens that were victims of a terrorist attempt to poison the entire city of Tokyo, and where her father was deceased as a result of a bank robbery. It was the city where HE lived and HE was the only person she detested this much on the entire planet. Soon, it would not matter that all this had happened, and she would not care. Soon…

The city lights were blinking in the dark night of December 31st. Somewhere, people were gathering to count down to the end of the day, the end of the year, and the start of a new one. Somewhere, there was a kid who possessed knowledge being bullied. Somewhere, the homeless resided, shivering in the cold December night. Somewhere, children of the poor were in their crowded homes, trembling without heat with a half empty stomach. Somewhere, terrorists were planning the next target's attack. But somewhere, happiness lived, and laughs of joy jingled the halls of merriness. And she was going to protect that happiness, that small fire that lit through the dark times and the desperate.

Her eyes reflected those of an old, wise sage. She had seen too much, been through too much. Forced into adolescence without a mother who'd look after her every back, she earned the highest grades by studying hard to get into Ouran Academy where the rich got their every way. But she met friends, people she thought she could rely on. All except one. That man with the amethyst eyes—he betrayed her trust and shattered her innocence.

As she cried the tears of sorrow after her father was murdered without a care by ruthless thieves, he was out with women, partying, and celebrating only god knows what. The only one who offered her comfort would not accept her afterwards—that man with the captivating gray irises, and elegant nose—for he was son and heir to the powerful Ootori expertise.

She looked over to the famous Tokyo Tower, standing majestically in its golden lighted grace. She recalled fond memories as a naive child, looking out at the city of Tokyo from the rising elevator in the Tower with her whole family. She recalled her own voice, asking in curiosity, "Who are terrorist-sans?" She remembered her mother's stunned face when she asked that, then her kind smile.

Tears stung at the back of her eyes as she looked up at the plain ceiling to keep from crying. "I'm strong. Only the weak will cry. I'm not weak." She was talking out loud, trying to convince herself rather than announcing it.

_She can't be here anymore_, a voice said. _She was killed by terrorists…_ The voice echoed over and over again. _Okaa-san was killed by terrorists….Otou-san was killed by thieves…_

She clutched her hands into fists. When she thought she'd burst if she didn't break the long glass window, she slammed her fist into the wall, instantly making a dent that was easily noticeable. She was sure the whole building shook.

Drawing back her fist, she didn't even bother to inspect it; she knew it was in perfect condition. That was nothing compared to the training she had endured from the world's most mysterious, yet successful martial artist, Yamato Aya.

With Aya, she had to work stressful hours, awaking at the crack of dawn and sleeping at midnight. She learned the art of the gun and martial arts. Aya was a strict teacher, yet a compassionate friend. Although she had spectacular skills, she'd stuck to teaching others them, living quite a peaceful life, instead of the hectic life of an assassin or NPA (National Police Agency) worker.

She'd chosen to lead quite a different life. As a naïve teenage, she wanted to follow in her mother's footsteps to become a lawyer. But, after HIS betrayal, she had to do something that the world would benefit from. She wanted to change the "way things are."

Her heterochromatic eyes (one can't really tell since one eye is dark brown, the other just a tad darker) left the view presented to her by the glass window that stretched from ceiling to floor and one wall to another. She took notice of her black Calvin Klein bag, with all her essentials.

She went into the bathroom, put down her bag, and splashed cold, assuring water on her face. She wiped the water off with a towel, then looked back at her reflection in the mirror. She'd aged in the past 3 years. And matured and seen so much it had caught up to her. There were bags under her eyes and stern determination in her eyes which previously had only held pride and dignity.

She reached for the gel on the sink. Carefully brushing a bit into her hair, already in spikes, she swung her bag over her shoulder again.

She exited her hotel room and walked confidently into the halls of the five star hotel's 5th floor. To avoid suspicion of her outfit and the time at which she was going out, she had programmed a fire alarm to start blaring at just about_…5…4…3…2…1…now._ Fire alarms were blaring. Guests began getting out of their rooms, looking around in panic. Staff immediately tried to figure out what was wrong, causing more chaos.

She concealed her smirk, blinked, and became a shrieking guest in all black. "What is going on!" she faked a scream of terror. A deep voice came over the PA system, telling everyone to evacuate the building while it was being checked. It was a relief she had thrown her laptop out the window before and not kept it. It was registered to her and if not broken, it could have easily gave her away.

She joined the huge herd of people, some rushing for the elevator_. Bakas_, she thought. As it appeared, she was the first to actually think to use the staircase. Reaching for her scarf, she wrapped it around her face, so that she was not recognizable and put on a pair of sunglasses to add to the "disguise."

At the second floor, she was stopped by a man in a suit. _I don't have time!_ she fumed internally.

"Excuse me, miss. If you do not mind, I'd like to bring you in for—"

Before he could finish, she had him under her, arms twisted. "Sorry, mate. Don't have the time." Pulling out some rope from her bag, she tied him up and continued nonchalantly as if nothing had happened.

She almost reached the lobby when some more men approached her. They didn't get to finish their sentences either. She had them out with a few punches, startling nearby onlookers.

Getting on her motorcycle, she drove off, roaring all the way as the darkness swallowed her whole.

She halted the sleek, black UJM to a stop before the government building. She looked up. _Tonight is the night…_

* * *

_"You have passed both the physical, verbal, and facial examinations. Congratulations." The emperor was talking. "We will have that contract and you can begin your work for us at midnight, on December 31st."_

_"Hai, Akihito sama."_

_"We will meet here then."_

* * *

She walked into the building, head held high. She approached the emperor, his bodyguards, nationally famed lawyer, Yayoi Nara, and Prime Minister Yasuo Fukuda. "Akihito sama, Fukuda sama. I'm ready."

A bodyguard stepped forth and was about to swing a punch, but again, was instantly on the ground, face coming hard in contact with the stone floor. "You're fast."

She got off of him. As soon as he could move, he got up and was stopped again in his second attempt to catch her with a blow. "It's not going to work."

Yayoi Nara intercepted, "Are you sure you are willing to work for Japan in this way?" He handed her the contract. She scanned it. It was exactly as she wanted it.

"Yes."

"Say your last words."

She handed over her bag. "Everything in here must be destroyed. And they may not be able to be destroyed just be anything. If anything, one glance at the ring and one sniff of the fragrance, the only left in the world, will bring back everything."

"Understood." A bodyguard reached forward to take the bag away. "Anything else?"

"No. I'm content." The emperor raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't comment.

"Last wishes?"

"No."

"If you would just sign here…"

Without hesitation, she took the pen, and signed her name in her unique handwriting. She closed her eyes and waited for the blow. It seemed like an eternity, but it finally came. She fell unconscious.

"Fujioka Haruhi, I officially declare you the first member of the UNSTF."

(A/N: Some of you probably read my other fanfic, umm "Memories in the Rain." I'm sorry if you do, because I really cannot decide if I want to continue it or not. Unless…well, never mind.

I hope this has been a satisfying read.)

UNSTF- United Nations Special Task Force

UJM- Universal Japanese Motorcyles


End file.
